Between the lines of fear and blame
by ncis-lady
Summary: Kíli would never have pushed him away before. Before, he would have accepted his brother's helping hand, he might have huffed, but he would have let Fíli help him because that was just what they both knew Fíli needed to do. Before, he wouldn't have acted as if nothing had happened. Missing moment of BOFA. T for curses, no slash.


Hey everyone, I wish a happy 1st May! (It's a bank holiday here in Germany and I'll be off for a BBQ soon.)

So the DVD of the last movie is out, but I will patiently wait for the Extended Edition before I buy the boxed set. I still feel like there were too many missing scenes in BOFA and there certainly wasn't enough Fíli or brotherly moments between the two Durins. I think Kíli and Fíli should have had a moment to talk about everything, I wasn't pleased with the way Kíli pushed his brother away in Bard's house when Fíli tried to help him out of the chair, and I'm sure Fíli didn't like that, either. So yeah, this one-shot is basically my idea of how the brothers might deal with that. Enjoy!

PS: Reviews make my day ;)

Rated T for cursing. No slash.

Lyrics in italics, as well as the title, are from The Fray's "How to save a life".

* * *

**Between the lines of fear and blame **

_Where did I go wrong? I lost a friend  
Somewhere along in the bitterness_

It hurt. There was something about the few words - "I'm fine, I can walk" - that hit Fíli harder that he would have thought. Maybe it wasn't only the words. Kíli would never have pushed him away before. Before, he would have accepted his brother's helping hand, he might have huffed, but he would have let Fíli help him because that was just what they both knew Fíli needed to do. Before, he wouldn't have acted as if nothing had happened.

He wouldn't have made Fíli feel as if he had done something wrong, before.

But here in Laketown, amidst the hurry and panic, his few words hit Fíli like a hammer to the heart. He wasn't used to feeling like this. So _left out_. He didn't say anything, though, simply because there were more urgent matters at hand and he didn't know what to say anyway. He never took his eyes off Kíli, taking in his hunched form in the boat, the way his face sometimes screwed up in pain, and how Kíli's brown eyes settled on Tauriel more than once when he thought no one was watching. From the corner of his eyes he saw the city burning. The flames went high in the night and the roars of the mighty dragon echoed in his ears. He ought to be afraid, but in reality there was no time for such emotions, not while the boat had to be manoeuvred through the narrow passages, around floating barrels and wooden pillars that had been broken by the dragon and which were now blocking the way ever so often.

Suddenly the boat shook heavily, causing Fíli to nearly lose his balance. He cursed into his beard as the boat swayed dangerously. He could see Kíli falling to the side and he reached out his hand, grabbing him by the arm and holding him tightly until the water calmed. He and Kíli exchanged a fleeting glance and for a moment he thought he recognised his brother in the way he looked at him with wide eyes. The brother he had known before everything had started to fall apart.

"I'm fine."

Kíli pulled his arm away, retreating to his corner in the boat and setting his eyes on the burning houses, and Fíli clenched his fists and wondered why he felt so angry.

As the small group arrived at the shores of Laketown Fíli didn't bother to help his brother out of the boat. He kept his distance, eyeing him from afar as Kíli talked to Tauriel.

"Kíli!" he yelled. But the younger one didn't even seem to hear him.

"What's taking him so long?" Bofur asked indignantly, giving the small boat another push in order to get it into the water. "We need to get out of here."

Fíli couldn't agree more. He knew Bofur was worried about his brother and cousin, the taunting words of Smaug still clear in his head as the dragon boasted with how he had killed the dwarves in the mountain. It was something Fíli tried desperately to push to the back of his head. They were alright.

"Give him a moment," he said to Bofur, watching Kíli, Tauriel and Legolas. He sighed inwardly as he saw Kíli reaching into his pocket. He knew what he was giving to the elf, and again he could feel the unfamiliar sensation of anger stir in his chest. He grabbed the rim of the boar with both hands, ignoring the splinters that dug into his skin, and tried to not look at Kíli when he finally made it to the boat.

The journey across the lake was a quiet one.

Nobody spoke, not even Bofur tried to diffuse the tension. To Fíli it seemed as if everyone was occupied with their own thoughts, and he himself was no exception. At the other side of the lake, already far away, the city of Laketown was burning. He could see the smoke and flames and he knew that in that very moment people were dying. He thought of Bard and his children – Bain, Sigrid, sweet little Tilda – and of how they had helped him more than once during their time in the town. In return they had gotten a destroyed home and nothing but their bare clothes to live in. He choked as Bard's words echoed in his ears. That inferno was the dwarves' fault. All that death and suffering was of their doing. It was a horrible thought. He had always known that actions had consequences, and these consequences became graver as those who acted grew in power. But Thorin had never done anything that would bring harm to good people. Not his uncle. His uncle, who had raised him like a son and who had been his inspiration for decades, had always been kind and just.

_Some day you will be king and you will understand._

Fíli understood, now. But he didn't like it.

They reached the other side of the lake quickly, and Fíli took a deep breath as he perceived the shape of the mountain. It was much closer now than it had ever been. He should rejoice. But with every step he took the whispering voices in his head grew louder. He knew that it was a fool's hope he was clinging on to.

He turned his head. Behind him Kíli, Bofur and Óin were following slowly. Fíli didn't know why he had become the leader of their small group. He hadn't asked for it, he would rather have stayed behind to watch his brother. When he looked at him now, he recognised immediately the signs of fatigue that took hold of the younger one. He looked pale, even from the distance, and he was favouring his right leg as he tried to keep up with the others.

Fíli clenched his jaw before he spoke.

"We will rest for a while," he commanded, inwardly steeling himself for the response that came without hesitation.

"We can't stop now!" Kíli rejected, his brown eyes hard and boring into his brother.

"We can, and we will."

Fíli took a step towards his brother and exchanged a quick glance with Bofur, who nodded slowly.

"Maybe it's for the better," the toymaker said and wiped the sheen of sweat from his forehead that had formed there despite the winter chill. Óin didn't speak – Fíli had the notion that the elder dwarf hadn't even heard his words.

"We're almost there," Kíli protested, making to march on. He stumbled as if on cue, and Fíli couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at him.

"You need rest, Kíli." He hesitated for a moment, unwilling to plead when inside he was getting more and more fed up with his younger brother's behaviour. "Please, Kee."

His voice was barely above a whisper, the words directed only at his brother. For a moment Kíli seemed to want to object. Fíli didn't know what he would do if his injured brother refused to stay. He couldn't stop him if he wanted to.

"Alright," Kíli replied, and Fíli released the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.

He slumped down on the ground, stretching his sore limbs, and opened the lid of the leather skin. He took a sip of water and relished the cool liquid on his dry tongue. The water was the only provision he had managed to gather before they had climbed the boat, and it was barely enough to wet their mouths. He passed it to Kíli, who took it without a word and then passed it on to Bofur.

Fíli watched the small group wearily. This was not the way he had imagined his arrival at Erebor. They looked a mess, at least the others did and Fíli assumed he didn't look much better. The clothes he was wearing were too wide and too small at the same time, something he never would have thought possible. He knew for a fact that at least two of his braids had come lose days ago and to top it all off, he really, _really_ missed his twin swords.

But it was all nothing compared to the nagging feeling that they would reach the mountain too late.

It was a thought that scared him more than he liked to admit. Mostly because it was so abstract, something ungraspable, an idea just so absurd that he wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Thorin could not be dead. It was as plain as that, because Fíli didn't know what he should do if his uncle was gone. Therefore he simply refused to believe the whispering voices and tried to convince himself that everything would turn out well. The anger and fear would soon be gone, he would enter Erebor side by side with his brother, and everything would be forgotten.

He closed his eyes for a split second, trying to focus on the things that mattered in that moment. Reaching Erebor, finding Thorin, watching out for Kíli.

But as he opened his eyes again he couldn't oversee the way Kíli probed his leg, grimacing as a low moan escaped his tightly pressed lips. The younger one caught his brief glance and immediately gave Fíli his most defiant look.

"I'm –"

But Fíli didn't wait to hear the rest of the too familiar line. He couldn't. He knew that if he stayed for a moment longer he would snap, and Kíli didn't deserve this. It wasn't Kíli's fault that he felt like that, it wasn't Kíli's fault that he had almost lost his brother, it wasn't his fault.

He repeated these words in his head as he grabbed his gear, ignoring Bofur's worried look and the confusion written all over Kíli's pale face.

"Let's get going," Fíli said gruffly. He lent Óin a helping hand to get the elder dwarf get on his feet. After that, he turned around and took a deep breath. There it was, waiting for him in the distance, tall and threatening and taunting, its sharp peak like a signal post pointing at every mistake Fíli had made along the way. The Lonely Mountain. What had once been the object of his childhood dreams and a promise of adventure and glory had turned into the forge in which all his nightmares were collected and transformed into the ragged dagger tearing his heart with every heavy step he took.

_Too late, too late, too late._

He balled his hands to fists and set his eyes on the mountain. He didn't turn his head once. He knew that the others were following him the way they had done ever since they had left the shores of Laketown. It made him feel uneasy. Fíli had never been a leader during the quest, not with Thorin, Balin and Dwalin around. He didn't _want_ to be a leader. Not yet, not like this.

"Fíli?"

He flinched when Kíli appeared at his side. Durin knew how the injured dwarf had drawn level with him.

"What?" Fíli muttered more harshly than he had intended. "Not so fine now?"

It wasn't fair, and he could tell by the way Kíli's face fell that he had overstepped a line. He just couldn't bring himself to care, not anymore.

"I'm sorry," Kíli whispered, barely loud enough for Fíli to hear, and the blonde stopped dead in his tracks.

"Sorry?" he echoed flatly. His hands were shaking, he realised, and he dug his nails into the heels of his hands and clenched his jaw. "And what is it you're sorry for?"

"You tell me!"

The two brothers eyed each other, and to his horror Fíli felt his eyes starting to burn. He wished fervently that Bofur and Óin would just pass them by, and luckily Bofur at least seemed to understand the urgency and dragged the old healer along. He could see the toymaker gesticulating and nodding in Fíli's directing as Bofur brought some distance between the elder dwarves and the brothers.

"Kíli…" Fíli began, but couldn't go on. He knew, deep down, that once the wall he had built during the last days would break, there would be no going back. He would crumble and admit defeat; he would look weak and a failure to his people.

Whoever his people were. Right now, _his people_ were three dwarves in ragged clothes who looked at him with respect because he was the heir to a throne that was probably a pile of ash in a burned kingdom.

"I'm sorry for pretending that I'm alright," Kíli said with a small voice. "I know I'm not. But what difference does it make? We had to get away."

Sadness crossed his face for a second, that didn't go unnoticed by Fíli.

"It makes a difference for me," he replied quietly. He didn't know where these words had come from, though. He hesitated, swallowing down the lump in his throat, and ran his hand through his hair and over his face. Kíli wouldn't understand. Mahal, he didn't even understand himself.

"You acted as if you didn't need help or comfort, you tried so hard to be strong and invincible that you didn't stop for one moment to think that maybe I needed to… to be needed," Fíli ended rather lamely. He felt heat rising to his cheeks and almost turned away.

"I was getting help. Tauriel – "

"Oh stop it, Kíli, for Durin's sake!"

He knew that his nails were drawing blood, but he didn't mind the pain in his hands. It felt good.

"Stop what?" Kíli growled, defiance clearly visible in his eyes. "I owe her my life. She saved me, Fíli!"

Whatever else Kíli had wanted to say was drowned out by a ringing in Fíli's ears, a deafening sound that grew louder as the feeling of helplessness and despair washed over him just like they had done when he'd witnessed Kíli's suffering in Bard's house.

_We're losing him._

He felt Kíli's strong grip on his arm. It was a familiar gesture, one that the brothers always returned to when one of them was close to falling apart. Usually it was Fíli, though, who offered that kind of comfort to his little brother, not the other way round. He raised his head a little, his eyes searching for, and finding, his brother's.

"I almost lost you there, Kíli." His voice was trembling despite his desperate attempt to suppress it. "I tried, I tried so hard to keep you safe. I would have given anything – I _did_ give everything – I tried, but…"

His voice faltered when his throat restricted. He pressed his eyes shut to keep away the haunting images of the fateful events of the last days, but to no avail.

"I know I should be grateful for the elf's help. And I am, of course I am, how could I not?"

"Then what is troubling you?" Kíli asked with his fingers still curled around Fíli's arm in an iron grip.

For a moment Fíli avoided Kíli's worried gaze. He couldn't look him in the eye. There were so many things that were troubling him, but he didn't have the right to burden his little brother with them.

"I failed you," he rasped finally, and by the way Kíli's grip tightened he knew that the archer hadn't expected that. He hadn't wanted to say it aloud, in fact, but the words had found their way out before he could hold them back. "I failed you, but Kee, I didn't mean to. I tried so hard to keep you safe, all the time, and maybe it wasn't enough but don't I deserve some respect?"

His voice had grown louder, angrier, and he realised that the levee had broken without a chance to be mended.

"Everything I do – everything I've _ever_ done – is for you, for Ma, for Thorin. And that's alright. But don't I deserve some _bloody respect_? For Durin's sake, I try and try so hard and it's never enough and look what came out of it."

He turned his head a little. The mountain peak was closer now, as if he could touch it should he reach out his arm.

"I almost lost you, Kee, and Thorin could be dead for all we know, and when I needed you the most you pushed me away."

Kíli paled visibly, if that was even possible, and let go of Fíli's arm as if he had been burned.

"I didn't –"

"You did. And I'm not talking about the moment we left Bard's house and you wouldn't even let me help you get out of that bloody chair, that's not what I mean. Although it hurt, Kíli, it really hurt. And you know why? Because it wasn't the last time, nor the first time. I was worried sick about you, and you only cared about the elf like a love-sick puppy!"

Anger flashed up in Kíli's eyes.

"I love her!"

The words hung in the air, and during the seconds of silence that passed between the brothers Fíli was at a loss for words. Of course he had noticed the mutual affection Kíli and Tauriel held for each other. He had tried his hardest to not overhear their short exchange of words when Kíli had woken up, but he had heard enough. He had seen it all, he had drawn his own conclusions, but to hear it so bluntly from Kíli was something else entirely.

"You've only known her for a few days, how can you say you love her?" he asked incredulously, wanting to shake the younger one when Kíli clenched his jaw.

"I just do. I can't describe it, Fíli, and I don't expect you to understand," he added rather stubbornly.

"Fine. Because I _don't_ understand. So you love her, great, good for you. But have you considered for just _one_ moment that I needed you there? There was a time when I wouldn't have had to ask. You would have known, and I don't know what happened to change that but it sure feels wrong and I don't think I can –"

He pressed the heels of his hands against his burning eyes, taking shuddering breaths while fighting against the urge to sob like an upset dwarfling. He was an adult, the heir to the throne of Erebor, the nephew of Thorin Oakenshield.

_Too late._

"I don't know what to do, Kee. If Thorin's dead, I just don't know how I'm supposed to deal with that."

"He's not dead," Kili stated firmly, though with a hint of insecurity in his voice. "He's not dead."

"How can you know that? If he's gone, then I'll have to… I will be… I can't, Kíli."

A quiet sob emerged from his throat, inaudible to anyone but Kíli and himself. He bit his lower lip to stop it from trembling as he tried to chase the dark thoughts away.

"Fíli!" Kíli laid his hands onto Fíli's shaking shoulders and forced the older brother to look at him. "Fíli, don't think that. Please. If it happens, it happens, and you will do just fine, as always." He grinned weakly. "Unlike me, you actually paid attention to what Thorin, Balin and all the others taught us. And you –"

He hesitated. For a moment he looked over Fíli's shoulder, and the blonde dwarf could only assume that he was gazing at Laketown, where he had left Tauriel behind.

"You don't have to do it alone," Kíli spoke firmly. "I'm sorry for treating you like that, I shouldn't have done that. I can't change the way I feel about Tauriel, but I was wrong to act the way I did around you. But whatever happens, I will always have your back. No matter what."

Fíli swallowed down the lump in his throat and nodded slowly. He understood that there was no going back to where they had once been. Too much had happened, too much had changed, but now he could hope again that some things would remain the same. He squared his shoulders and pulled Kíli into a hug.

"And you'll have my back, no matter what, little brother."

If everything else was lost, he'd still have Kíli. Nothing would ever change that.

"Let's go," the dark-haired dwarf muttered. "We have a kingdom to reclaim."

"Aye," said Fíli, and a small smile found its way onto his lips. He draped one arm around Kíli's shoulder and side by side they gazed at the Lonely Mountain. "The heirs of Durin are coming home."

_And I would have stayed up with you all night  
Had I known how to save a life_


End file.
